Picture the scene: the wife is bawling through her mask, the husband is pacing, tissues are everywhere

When coronavirus reached the US, the new reality hit me.

In the beginning, coronavirus was just a story from a faraway land. We heard bits and trickles in the news, but it didn’t seem real until Purim, when we started hearing talk about coronavirus in our community.

Even then, it seemed temporary. It was only when businesses closed and restrictions were put in place that I realized this was a more permanent situation, and the realization sank in.

I’m having a baby and there’s no school.

I soon realized having the children home after I gave birth would be the least of my concerns. I wouldn’t be able to get a nurse for the baby. My husband might not be able to come to the hospital with me.

Then I heard a story about a newborn whose mother tested positive for coronavirus. Mother and baby were separated at birth. They remained apart for two weeks. The baby was with strangers for his bris while his family watched remotely. And then it really hit me: If I have the virus when I give birth, I won’t be able to hold my baby.

I cried just thinking about it. But I didn’t have much time to dwell on it. Pesach was coming, and we were going to be home for the first time. I needed to kasher our kitchen, to find recipes and create menus. I threw my energy into preparing for Yom Tov, all the while reassuring myself, It will be okay, it will work out.

After Pesach, as the birth approached, my concerns resurfaced. Trying to lay my fears to rest, I went to the local bikur cholim to get tested for coronavirus. Much to my relief, the results were negative.

When the time came and I went to the hospital, I wasn’t worried. I wasn’t even concerned when they tested me for the virus — I knew I was fine. But then the nurse told me I’d tested positive. I’d need to take precautions during labor and delivery, she said. I’d have to wear a mask. And, worst of all, I wouldn’t be able to hold my baby, or even be near my baby for the duration of my stay.

It took a few minutes for the information to sink in. By the time I had my mask on, the realization slammed into me with an actual physical pain. I couldn’t talk. What was there to say? I started crying.